


If You're Not You, Then Who?

by kuronkuronthegorgeousclone (wood_c_thrush)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Project Kuron, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sheith is background until later, Teen rating just for one swear tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_c_thrush/pseuds/kuronkuronthegorgeousclone
Summary: Or: Pidge might be a conspiracy theorist, but Keith actually believed a clone was his boyfriend, so who's the real nutjob here?





	1. In Which Pidge Forcibly Shoves Hunk Down The Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> First Voltron fic on AO3 - let me know what you think! <3

     

 

     “Pidge?”  Hunk poked his head into Green’s hangar, but there was only quiet.  “You there?”

 

     Still nothing.  Where on earth – heh, that saying didn’t really apply to them anymore, did it – was she this time?

 

     Sure, it was like her to miss family dinner for work a few times a week.  He’d taken it upon himself to make sure she got her three square blobs of food goo a day; she couldn’t really afford to get any tinier.  She still had time for one last growth spurt, and he liked to encourage her bones to give it a go any way he could.  Sometimes she’d even reappear on her own, like a puppy lured home by kibble, if he busted out his best outer space imitation of peanut butter cookies.

 

     Regardless of her normal eating habits, though, it was _not_ like her to miss Shiro’s first family dinner back.

 

     He rounded the corner toward their bedrooms, then thought better of it; she was barely in there even to sleep.  There were some unused rooms off the training deck, maybe she’d holed up in one of them.  But, still, set an alarm or something, it was pretty rude not to make it to Shiro’s welcome home dinner –

 

     With a pang, he grimaced, shame rushing through him.  Shiro’s been welcomed back, yeah, but she was still missing some people.  Maybe that’s why she didn’t show, he mused, footsteps tapping down the empty corridor past the training deck.  That could definitely be forgiven.

 

      Then, as he peeked inside the first door on the hall, he heard a whispered hiss behind him.

 

     “Hunk!  Get in here!”

 

     He yelped in surprise, sound bouncing off the walls, and Pidge sighed as she ducked out of the room opposite and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him bodily inside and shutting the door with a whoosh.

 

     It was a small room, somewhere between a walk-in closet and their bunks at the Garrison.  The only light came from the holoscreen, blue tinge turning Pidge’s hair to an odd sort of gray-green as she sat in front of it.  There weren’t any more chairs, so Hunk just sat cross-legged next to her.  The chair and screen were so low for her sake, his head still reached her shoulder.

 

     Pidge started typing, and Altean runes flitted across the screen, way too fast for Hunk to decipher.  “I need your help. But you can’t tell anyone else.”

 

     Oh, boy.  “Pidge, I love you, but the last time one of us kept secrets, the Blade of Marmora almost murdered Keith over a pocket knife.”  He paused for a second, then added, “Is it… your brother and dad?”

 

     “What?  No, of course not,” Pidge said in surprise, though not bothering to turn away from the screen.  “Why would that need to be a secret?”

 

     “I don’t know, but… you missed dinner tonight,” Hunk said tentatively.  “I thought… you might be upset.”

 

     “Dad and Matt are out there.  I’m doing everything I can to find them, and the second I do, everyone’s gonna know about it.”  She emphasized the statement with a firm _clack!_ of the Altean keyboard’s version of the enter button.  The screen filled with what looked, to Hunk’s eyes, something like a medical report or doctor’s notes, wiggly-looking runes littering the pages.

 

     “Pidge – ”

 

     He cut off as she shushed him, eyes rapidly scanning the document.  After a few seconds, she sighed, then closed that screen only to pause, looking deep in thought.  Then, she started clicking away again.

 

     “We’re gonna get all three of them back,” she muttered, almost to herself, and it took Hunk a second to realize what she said.

 

     “Um. Pidge – ”

 

     “That’s not Shiro.”

 

 


	2. In Which Neither Pidge nor Hunk Is A Biologist, But They Try Their Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love so far! <3

     She was serious.  Oh, boy, she was quiznaking serious.  This was bad.  So bad, so bad –

               

     “Don’t say anything,” Pidge ordered, right as Hunk was about to start saying _all_ the things.  “I know what you’re thinking, and I would just like to point out I was _fucking right_ about Dad and Matt and the aliens, so you’re not allowed to compare this to Bigfoot, or Mothman, or – “

 

     “ – every single telenovela Lance made us watch?” Hunk said, and Pidge glared at him.  “Seriously, the exact same thing happened on _Passions of Santos_ finale last season, Lance and I spent half the night videochatting with his mom about it – “

 

     “Julio Andres was Santos’ evil twin, not a clone,” she countered, like that somehow made her point.  “That – _thing_ – that Not-Shiro is a Galra experiment to infiltrate Voltron!”

 

     “Hey, whoa.  Hold up.”  Hunk gave her a stern look.  “Shiro-slash-Not-Shiro, whoever he is – he’s a person.  Human or alien, friend or foe, we don’t call people _things_.  Cause if he somehow was made by the Galra, that’s all they treated him as.  We’re gonna do better.”

 

     Pidge blinked once, then reached up to fidget with her glasses.  “Sorry,” she murmured, and Hunk nodded once.

 

     “No problem.  Now, do I have your permission to freak out?”

 

     “Gimme a dobash to explain,” she said, a trace of a smile on her lips.  She actually turned her chair away from the screen to look at him, and Hunk sat up a little straighter.  “Look.  It’s half a gut feeling, but it makes sense.  We don’t find a trace of him for months, then he just happens to fall in our lap?”

 

     “I dunno.  He’s obviously got Shiro’s memories.  And a pretty convincing story,” Hunk said with a shrug.  “He's got experience escaping Galra prison, for one.  And rebel resistances like those guys who helped him have been popping up on outskirt planets for decapheebs – the Blade of Marmora’s been around almost as long as Zarkon!  And he’s gotta be telling the truth about how long he was flying; he had the right bruises, and he passed out as soon as he tried to stand.  Another few hours in that ship, and…”

 

     He trailed off, looking down to his hands.  He didn’t want to finish the thought.

 

     Pidge hesitated a moment, too.  Then, she blew out a breath.  “The ship was the first clue.  It was just… too easy.”

 

     “Easy?  You call that easy?”

 

     “Did you ever watch the _Star Wars_ movies when you were a kid?” Pidge said abruptly.  “They’re, like, our great-grandparents old, but they’re pretty much the origin of modern sci-fi.  Commander Iverson quoted them once – _do, or do not; there is no try_ ,” she mimicked, voice like a frog learning to speak English.

 

     Hunk screwed up his eyes, thinking back.  “I _think_ so – the weird monks with those light-sticks that go _whoosh-vrrmmm-shwoosh_ , and the bad guy with, like, crazy asthma and a face mask?”

 

     “Yeah, pretty much – there’s this scene in the first one with the space princess – “

 

     “Oh, hey, like Allura!”

 

     “Hunk, focus!” Pidge snapped, frowning angrily.  “In the first movie, the good guys escape the bad guy’s ship, but there’s a tracker on the ship they fly away in!  They lead the bad guys right to the good guy home base.  Right here!”

 

     Hunk’s heart skipped a beat.  If the Galra –

 

     “Wait.  Have you checked the ship we docked?”

 

     Pidge nodded.  “First thing I did.  It’s completely clean.”

 

     Hunk exhaled a relieved laugh, clapping a hand to his heart.  “Phew.  Jeez, Pidge, you really had me going there – “

 

     “ _Completely_ clean, Hunk,” she said, low and serious.  “No trackers to keep an eye on their pilots' movements.  No beacons or distress signal capabilities for emergencies.  And no previous voice logs.”

 

     Oh, man.  That did look bad.  “Maybe it’s… a new, unfinished model?” Hunk tried, but he didn’t even believe that himself.  From the look Pidge gave him, she wasn’t going to dignify it with a response.

 

     “The next thing was the timing of it all,” Pidge continued, ignoring him.  “The Galra had our old location.  The _rebels_ – “ she wiggled both hands in finger quotes, and Hunk stifled a grin – “just happened to intercept that info?  There just happened to be a Galra cargo ship for their little speeder to dock, already heading towards Thayserix?  And for what?  The planet’s uninhabitable by oxygen-breathers, and that includes them!”

 

     Hunk didn’t respond.  They were halfway into the Twilight Zone – how was that for an old reference, he thought wryly – but, hey, alternate realities existed now.  Crazy was normal, and normal was really quiznaking crazy. 

 

     Then, a thought niggled in the back of his mind.  “Wait – that doesn’t make sense, though.  Why make it so hard for Shiro-slash-Not-Shiro to make it back, then?   If he’s really cahooting with the Galra – “

 

     Pidge snorted.  “Cahooting?”

 

     “Fine – in league with,” Hunk said sourly.  “Why would they make it so hard for him?  He had to steal a Galra ship from right under their noses, avoid enemy fire, and then starve for half a Spicolian movement – and he didn’t even know if he was going the right direction!  Why create a clone if they’re just gonna let him fail?”

 

     “Because they didn’t make _a_ clone,” Pidge said darkly.  She dropped her eyes to her lap.  “They only need one to make it back.  They'd just organize each one's escape one by one.  The others die in the attempt, their own mess is already cleaned up.  Then, when they’re ready, all they need is to say a code word, and… he turns.”

 

     Hunk felt cold run down his spine.  It made a horrible kind of sense.  All of it did, really.  He’d been so happy to have Shiro back, he’d never thought…

 

     A hot rush of anger ghosted through his chest.  If the Galra Empire really did this – if they’d created and manipulated some hapless man, made them think he was their friend and they were his –

 

     “We need to know for sure,” he muttered, and Pidge blew out a breath, slumping a little in her chair.

 

     “You really believe me?” she said hopefully.

 

     “We need to know for sure,” he repeated.  "Also, if it comes to that, I call not being the one to tell Keith."  

 

     "If it comes to that, you're the one who has to hold Keith back from killing him," Pidge replied grimly.  "God.  This is so messed up."  

 

     "It's gonna break his heart," Hunk said softly.  Pidge just closed her eyes.

 

     Hunk sat in the feeling a moment longer, trying very hard not to remember the look in Keith's eyes when Black had roared for her old paladin.  Then, he rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck on each side, and laced his fingers together.  “So.  How do we tell apart two people with the same faces, bodies, and memories?”  

 

     “That’s the thing,” Pidge said, lips pursed into a tiny frown.  She finally turned back to the computer and started typing again.  More Altean runes popped up onscreen, and Hunk thought he recognized the words ‘frozen’ and ‘meters’, but that was about it.  They must’ve meant something to her, though, cause she leaned in closer, little forehead wrinkles deepening.  “Clones can never be exact copies.”

 

     Hunk blinked.  “Uh.  Maybe I’m under-thinking this, but isn’t that, like… the point?”

 

     “Well, yeah, but it’s biologically impossible,” Pidge replied, eyes still glued to the screen.  Hunk frowned, then strode over to flick on the light switch by the door.  He winced a little at the brightness, then a little more at the shadows it showed under Pidge’s eyes. 

 

     Wordlessly, he reached for the computer screen and tapped at the side menu; the screen dimmed a little, and he carefully grasped Pidge’s shoulders next, guiding her to sit up straight.  Poor girl already needed a crazy strong glasses prescription, and the idea of space chiropractors struck him as even shadier than Earth ones.

 

     “Thanks,” Pidge muttered absently, eyes flicking to him for a moment.  Then she growled in frustration, one hand running through her hair.  “Apparently, the Alteans could invent flying superweapons that double as physical vessels for ultra-dimensional psyches, but barely moved past Dolly the sheep in bioengineering.  How am I supposed to find flaws in the procedure if they don’t even have one?”

 

     Hunk furrowed his brows.  “Wait, go back a tick – something, or someone, with identical DNA to the first something-someone, biologically _can’t_ be a perfect replica?  What, is it a C-12 to 14 ratio in their nucleotide bases, or – no, they’d have to be dead for that to change, the ratio would reach equilibrium regardless of starting concentra – “

 

     “No, no, it’s not physical chemistry,” Pidge inserted, keyboard clacking again as she started a new search, “it’s epigenetics – it’s why you can still tell identical twins apart.  In theory, they start off with matching sets of chromosomes in the womb, right?  But one twin’s on the left side of the mother and the other’s on the right, and they’re not in _exactly_ equal environments then.  Apply the slightest environmental pressure – ”

 

     “Oh,” Hunk breathed, clapping a hand to his forehead.  “Duh.  It’s basically chaos theory.”

 

     “Exactly.  DNA can respond to the environment – I don’t know all the details, I’m not a biochemist – but it alters transcriptional levels with methylation, somehow, which in turn alters translational levels, which in turn – “

 

     “Is why Sarah was diabetic and Tiffany wasn’t!” Hunk exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in excitement. 

 

     Pidge glanced up at him again, concerned this time.  “Who?”

 

     “Sarah and Tiffany Steinbecker – they were these twins in my kindergarten class, and Sarah used to always share her cheese crackers with me and braided my hair, so I was crazy in love with her, but she had type I diabetes and Tiffany didn’t!  I’d forgotten about that.”  He grinned down at Pidge.  “Mystery solved.”

 

     Pidge smiled back, but it slid off her face as she turned back to her screen, shoulders already starting to re-hunch.  “We’ve got a bigger case to crack now, though.”

 

     With a sigh, Hunk leaned back against the wall, contemplating.  It sounded insane, obviously.  But, someday he was going to explain to his moms that he’d ditched Earth to fight aliens in a semi-sentient lion robot.  Why not add in a B-movie subplot?  And they’d been tricked too many times by the Galra already.  Luck would favor the overprepared.

 

     Plus, this whole crazy theory already had his anxiety ratcheted up to, like, eighty.  He needed a firm answer if he ever wanted to sleep again.

 

     “Alright, let’s say, somehow, that isn’t Shiro,” he reasoned aloud, starting to pace.  “If the Alteans didn’t master cloning before their end, then the Galra did it sometime in the past 10,000 years.  Which is a _really_ long time to perfect the process.  But, assuming they can’t account for all those epi-methylation-whatevers, what would be most likely to change?  I mean, they’d have to get a ton of stuff perfect to pass off a clone as the original – height, weight, build, skin and hair tone, eye color, birthmarks, scars – “

 

     Pidge gasped, jerking upright again. 

 

     “Scars,” she breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.  “Those aren’t genetic, they – no, no, the Galra would’ve thought of that, they’re literal visible changes – “

 

     It was Hunk’s turn to gasp.  He stopped pacing, pointing a finger at Pidge in excitement.  “But not all of them!”

 

     “What, internal scars?” Pidge said with a frown.  “I mean, it’s plausible from old injuries, Shiro’s got enough of those – but we don’t have comparative MRI scans, the pods don’t use – “

 

     “Maybe we don’t need them!” Hunk said.  “Everything on a clone’s insides is brand-new, right?  If they cloned from Shiro’s genes right now, then the clone has all his old environmental DNA changes, but not his scars – and if we can’t _see_ his scars, maybe we can _hear_ them!”

 

     “ _Hear_ his sca – his voice?” Pidge breathed in wonder.  Then she leapt up from her chair, pumping a fist in the air.  “His voice, his voice!  His vocal folds will have usage scars!  There’s no way to account for that without causing them _more_ damage!  We have to do an aural frequency analysis on his voice!”

 

     With a whoop of excitement, she threw herself at Hunk in a tackling sort of hug.  “Hunk, you’re a genius!”

 

     Hunk grunted an _oof_ , catching her with one arm before she bounced off.  “You can thank me later – let’s go!”          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter (with actual real Sheith lol) coming up soon! 
> 
> Also, anyone get the _Passions of Santos reference?_ Best telenovela ever ;)


	3. In Which Keith Learns to Lock the Door and Hunk Jokes about Lotor's Daddy Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember when I said this last chapter would be up in a few days?!?!?!!!.... 
> 
> (Don't go to grad school, kids. No more time for fun, ever.)

 

 “I didn’t say anything,” Keith said, holding up his hands and grinning.  “You wear whatever you wa – ”

 

 “Nope, that’s it, I’m changing.”  Shiro stripped off his shirt, muffling his chuckles.  “Triumphant return after a death-defying escape from Galra imprisonment, and all my boyfriend does is make fun of my clothes – ”

 

 “I didn’t say anything!” Keith said, almost choking on his own laughter.  God, he’d missed this.  He grabbed Shiro’s metal arm before he could grab another shirt from his closet, stepping in close.  “But, come on, ‘Kashi – that gigantic round collar?  It’s ridiculous.  Your head looks like Saturn with its rings.”

 

 “I liked it,” Shiro declared, but his other hand tugged Keith in by the waist.  He leaned forward, brushing their noses together.  Keith exhaled softly, eyes dropping shut.  “But if it’s _so_ ridiculous, I guess I’ll change.”

 

 His breath was warm on Keith’s lips, hovering just out of reach.  Keith bit back another smile.  “Don’t worry.  I like this – “ he raised his free hand to Shiro’s bare chest, teasing slowly south – “look best anyway.”

 

 “That so?” Shiro hummed, then surprised him by suddenly crushing their lips together.  Keith gasped, then arched into it, body slotting into place against Shiro’s.  God, he’d missed this even more.  Hands tangled in hair, kiss deepening as Keith opened his mouth.  Shiro kissed like the one-man army he was, mission objective to overwhelm his lover, but Keith gave as good as he got, bracing both hands on Shiro’s chest to push him towards the bed –

 

 The door sprung open with a whoosh, and they startled apart.

 

 “Whoops.  Oh, god, this is so awkward, this is bad – “

 

 “Hunk!” Keith growled through gritted teeth.  Shiro’s face went red as – well, Red – but he’d already started to laugh.  Keith frowned harder in response.  “What do you want?”

 

 “Uh.  So, it’s a long story, although the point’s actually not that long, but, uh…” Hunk stammered, waving his hands around in the way that said his anxiety was at eleven.  Keith would feel sympathetic if he wasn’t so busy being pissed off.

 

 “Hunk.  Spit it out!”

 

 Hunk’s face fell, and Shiro laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder.  A look crossed his face, and Keith softened immediately, guilt souring his stomach.  It was a reminder.  Good leaders listen.  Good leaders are sympathetic.  Good leaders are patient and focused.

 

 This leader would rather be making out naked with his boyfriend, but things were what they were.

 

 Keith took a breath, blowing it out his nose.  “Sorry, Hunk.  I shouldn’t have snapped.  Is something wrong?”

 

 Shiro squeezed his shoulder, and Keith reached up, holding him there.

 

 Hunk looked between them, and his jaw tightened.   He nodded once, then said, “Shiro, can Pidge and I borrow you for a tick?  It’s important.”

 

 “Of course,” Shiro said at the same time Keith said, “What for?”

 

 “It’ll be real quick,” Hunk said in lieu of answering, stepping backwards towards the door.  “No reason to be worried.”

 

 Keith frowned again.  “Should I be?”

 

 A hearty chuckle fell flat, Hunk’s hand gripping the back of his neck.  “’Course not!  Just said you shouldn’t, right?”

 

 “Great.  I’ll come with, then.”  Keith made to step forward, and Hunk’s eyes widened in panic.

 

 “No, no, that’s fine!  You won’t even miss him, cross Yellow’s giant robot heart,” Hunk babbled.  “Seriously, you can just stay here, everything’s chill – “

 

 “Then why can’t I come!?”

 

 “Keith,” Shiro said softly.  He shot him a small, crooked smile and squeezed his shoulder again before letting go, grabbing his discarded shirt with the ridiculously round collar.  “I’ll be back in a minute.  Wait for me?”

 

 Keith sighed through his nose.  “Fine.”

 

 Shiro pulled on the shirt, kissed Keith on the cheek, and left.  Hunk glanced at Keith, mouth pursed into a frown, then hurried after Shiro.

 

 Keith counted to twenty, then followed.

 

 * * *   * * *   * * *

 

 “Should we grab some food for Pidge?  She missed dinner,” Shiro was saying up ahead, and Hunk’s guilty conscience grew heavier with every step.  “Probably shouldn't let her get any smaller.”

 

 He smiled back at Hunk, and Hunk tried to laugh normally.  It sounded a little like a honking goose, but apparently it was good enough for Shiro/Not-Shiro.

 

 “I'll make her eat after this,” he said, making a mental note to actually do so.  Time for another round of peanut-flavored food goo cookies.  Maybe all this clone stuff was just long nights and low blood sugar.  Wouldn't that make a nice change?

 

 They rounded the corner to the main deck, quiet footfalls and the slight buzz of the overhead lights the only sounds.  Hunk glanced at Shiro again, trying to find something unusual in his walk, his posture, anything.  The haircut was different, yeah.  Maybe his head was just cold.  Space was cold, nothing weird there.  Right?

 

 Then why was he wearing a short-sleeved shirt?  Oh god, maybe that was suspicious.  Shiro never showed off his arms, what if he was making sure he had full range of motion for when the Galra signal came --

 

 “Hunk?  What's this about, really?”

 

 Hunk jumped about a foot in the air.  “What do you mean?” he said, voice squeaky as Allura’s pet mice.

 

 Shiro stopped, and Hunk did, too, about three feet of space between them.  “Is it Keith?” Shiro said, folding his arms.  “If we need to discuss him as the head of Voltron -- “

 

 “No, no, that's not -- “

 

 “ -- then we should get everyone else too.  We can all go to Keith together afterwards.”

 

 Hunk froze, words caught in his throat.  Was Shiro/Not-Shiro serious?  “You… think we should all talk about Keith... without him?  And then just… corner him after?”

 

 “We should all have a chance to talk over what's happened, as a team,” Shiro said.  “Then, we all talk to him at once if there's any issues.  He’d appreciate us being direct.”

 

 Hunk blinked, struggling to process.  That might be the worst idea he's ever heard, and he'd talked Lance out of pulling that April Fool’s prank with the goats, the Jell-o and the alarm clocks back in senior year.  Keith would appreciate them being direct, yeah -- to his face, and not in a huge group where he'd feel trapped and then attacked.  Keith gets defensive and doesn't do well in crowds, those were day one observations.  And besides, what kind of team -- forget that, what kind of family talked about their brother behind his back, then ganged up to throw their complaints in his face?

 

 Maybe it wasn't low blood sugar after all.

 

 “Uh, maybe later,” he hedged, shifting from one foot to the other.  “But Pidge was just… doing some tech-y things and asked for you, I think it’s got something to do with Black?”

 

 “Oh.  Alright.”  With that, Not-Shiro smiled and continued on, Hunk following a few careful steps behind.

 

 A few feet back, only just hidden by the curve of the hallway, Keith fought to stay upright, slumping against the wall.  Well.  At least the knife in his back would make a nice add to his collection.

  


* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 Why.

 

 Why, why, _why_ did she send Hunk to get Not-Shiro?  

 

 She knew Hunk.  She loved Hunk, but he just wasn’t built to lie.  Aside from a slight distrust of strangers -- which had saved their lives how many times now? -- and the occasional bout of road -- sky? Space? -- rage, he didn’t have a mean bone in his warm, oh-so-huggable body.

 

 She glanced up at Green, asleep in the other half of the hangar, and fidgeted in her seat.  She'd been too caught up in his genius idea for an issue so small, so simple to blip on her mental radar.  Hunk hadn't objected and now it'd been half a varga and what if Not-Shiro had caught on – oh shit, shit, _shit_ , what if she’d just killed Hu -- ?!

 

 “Hey, Pidge!” Hunk called from behind, and she clutched at the desk to keep from falling out of her chair.  Oh, thank Green.  “Found him, he was with Keith.”

 

 She looked up from the screen and met Hunk’s eyes for a brief, pointed glance.  Hunk flicked his eyes toward the door, and Pidge nodded, quick and grim.  Keith had followed them.  Not-Shiro had to know it, too; the quicker now, the better.

 

 “Sweet – this’ll just take a tick,” she replied, spinning to face them.  Hunk was standing carefully in between her and Not-Shiro, leaning against the desk with a hand buried in his pocket.  Not-Shiro was looking up at Green, eyes neutral on her sleeping frame.  When he turned and smiled at her, though, she swore on her Nonna’s soul it stretched just a hair too wide.  

 

 “Hunk said you found something about Black?”

 

 “Maybe,” she hedged, turning to type some gibberish code onscreen.  Everything they needed, she and Hunk had debugged terabytes ago.  “So I was thinking, there wasn’t any issue with Black’s transfer between you and Keith, right?  And that was after we all tried with Black, too, and she only woke up for Keith – ”

 

 “Because Keith is her true Paladin now,” Not-Shiro said firmly.  He took a step back, holding his arms to his chest.  “Pidge, I appreciate whatever you’ve been doing, really.  But I’m not a Paladin anymore.  Black – Black made the right choice.”

 

 For a split second, Pidge froze.  Not-Shiro’s voice – the linchpin, their smoking gun – under the classic Shiro self-sacrifice, there was a strain to it he almost managed to hide.  She only heard it because she’d tried to hide it herself, once.  When she’d smiled for her sobbing mother on their living room floor, TV spewing lies about her family, saying it was okay, it was okay, she’d figure out what happened, everything would be alright.  

 

 But losing everything you loved left scars.  Invisible, yeah, but still too deep to hide.

 

 Hunk coughed, startling in the silence, and Pidge quickly spun away to face the computer and _not_ face Not-Shiro.  They still had to do this.  They still had to know.  

 “Well, I already wrote an advanced diagnostics program tailored to the Lions’ AI processing units.  Just to make sure Black’s not bugging out after all she’s been through, y’know?  Zarkon, unlocking new powers, space laser beatdowns.  Taking orders from Keith,” she joked, and Shiro half-smiled when she glanced his way.  “Anyone would need a pick-me-up.”

 

 Not-Shiro glanced towards Green again, and Pidge held her breath.  “That’s good work, Pidge.  Thank you.”

 

 Operation go.  “No problem – last thing is, I just need a voice recording from you to run flash comparisons on the internal biometric response systems – ”

 

 “I’ll leave the mechanics to you,” Not-Shiro said with a laugh, holding up both hands.  “What do you need me to say?”

 

 Pidge nodded at Hunk, who immediately whipped his hand out of his pocket and shoved a device roughly the size and shape of a pen under Not-Shiro’s nose.  He stepped back in surprise, eyebrows flying up, but Hunk followed him, crowding even closer as he started babbling away instructions.  Pidge just kept from smacking her hand to her forehead.  

 

 “Here, it’s easy, just talk into here – oh, uh, whatever you want to say is fine,” Hunk was saying, “uh – ooh! That thing you’re always telling Keith when he gets mad, y’know, it’s practically your catchphrase, you can just say that – whenever you want, we’re ready for launch, like we say here, uh, y’know, cause we’re in space – ”

 

 Not-Shiro chuckled, lowering the device to mouth level.  “No problem.”  With that, he leaned in and said, “Patience grants focus.”

 

 Pidge jolted up straight in her chair.  Adrenaline zinged up her spine like she’d been electrified, eyes flown wide as her glasses.  The device in Hunk’s hand slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor, deafening in the silence.  

 

 Oh, _quiznak_.  She hated being right all the time.  

 

 “Whoops – here, I got it,” Not-Shiro said blithely, bending down to grab the device.  He straightened up, holding it out to Hunk before frowning.  “Is something wro – ”

 

 A furious yell cut him off, and he whipped around, arms thrown back wide to shield them.  Lightning fast, his metal hand glowed violet-pink and clanged against a black-and-white sword.

 

 “Keith?!” Not-Shiro shouted, then ducked and rolled to the side as Keith swung at him with an almost feral shout.  “Keith, it’s me, it’s Shi – ”

 

 “Where is he?!” Keith screamed, pushing forward as Not-Shiro blocked with his arm, each thrust coming faster and harder.  “What did you do to him?!”

 

 “Pidge!” Hunk hissed, whipping out his bayard and planting himself beside her, aiming at the pair.  “Come on!”

 

 “I _am_ , just – there!”  

 

 She punched in the last command, and the ship’s alarm system blared the emergency siren, red lights flashing through the hangar.  At the same time, the doors whooshed shut and Green awoke with a snarling roar, leaping to her feet.  Hunk covered her as she sprinted to her Lion, flipping on the weapons systems and the speakers together.  “Hey, guys!  Stop!”

 

 Her voice sounded over the alarm, but she and Green were flies on the wall for all Keith and Not-Shiro noticed.  Keith was fighting like she’d never seen, teeth bared and eyes aflame, every blow aimed to kill.  Even with just his hand, though, Not-Shiro was proving why he earned the title The Champion.  He blocked every swing, parried every stab like he was reading Keith’s mind, still shouting and pleading with him.

 

 “Keith, you know me!” he yelled, catching the blade in his hand and leaning in close, Keith struggling to free it.  “We met at the Garrison – when I was leaving for Kerberos, you kissed me on the roof of our shack – ”

 

 “ _You’re not him!_ ” Keith screamed, and leaped back to kick him square in the chest.  Not-Shiro stumbled back, wheezing for breath, then dropped to his knees to dodge another swing.  Keith bore down on him, metal crashing on metal.  “You _lied_ to m – where is he!?”

 

 “You – you call me ‘Kashi when it’s just us,” Not-Shiro gasped, eyes wide and desperate.  “Your red jacket is the last thing you have of your dad’s – you’re the only person I’ve ever told about my sister – !”

 

 “Shut up!  Shut up, shut up – ”

 

 Keith’s words dissolved into a shout, ending with his sword at Not-Shiro’s neck.  

 

 Then, to Pidge’s shock, Not-Shiro lowered his hand, glow fading down to black.  Someone was pounding at the doors, sirens still blaring, but she and Hunk just watched as Keith and Not-Shiro stared at each other, chests heaving and hair plastered with sweat.  Tears spilled in messy tracks down Keith’s face, teeth still bared in fury, but Not-Shiro just gave a small, sad smile.

 

 “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved,” Not-Shiro finished, barely loud enough to be heard.  Then, he closed his eyes.

 

 No one moved.  Keith stood frozen, a flicker of confusion on his face.  The moment stretched longer, like time itself was holding its breath, waiting.  

 

 Then, he swung the sword back, and Hunk screamed, “No!”

 

 It clattered to the floor.  Keith stumbled back like he was drunk, breath coming in pants.  Not-Shiro’s eyes opened, hands reaching out to steady him, but Keith flinched away.

 

 Not-Shiro dropped his hands.  Then, he looked to Hunk, bayard gun still trained on his chest, and up to Pidge, Green’s lasers bearing down.  “Hunk.  Pidge.  Please, I – it’s me.  You know that, don’t you?”

 

 A heartbeat’s length, and Hunk slowly lowered his gun.  He glanced up at her, and Pidge nodded, typing a few quick commands.  The siren finally silenced, the hangar doors unlocking as Pidge climbed back out of Green.  

 

 A second later, Allura and Lance rushed in, fully armored and bayards at the ready.  They stopped short when they saw Not-Shiro, still on his knees, gaze now locked on Keith’s tearstained face, Hunk and Pidge standing on either side.

 

 “What the quiznak happened here?” Lance exclaimed, lowering his rifle.  “Shiro?  Everything _bueno_ , man?”

 

 “That’s not Shiro,” Keith muttered, then turned and walked out the door.  

 

 

* * *   * * *   * * *

 

 

 Hours later, Hunk knocked on the metal door out of habit, dull taps echoing down an empty hallway.  A hollow, deadened voice answered, “Come in.”

 

 “Brought you some food,” he said softly, door whooshing shut behind him.  It wasn’t a cell, per se.  Well, no, it definitely was, but he’d talked Allura down from stringing him up by his thumbs behind electrified bars, at least.  Not-Shiro was lying on a thin, gray cot that took up most of the room, encased in blank, gray walls with a buzzing, grayish light overhead and dull, gray cuffs locking his hands and feet.  It was the most depressing place Hunk had ever seen.  And he’d been to Iowa one time.

 

 Not-Shiro just stared at the flat, featureless ceiling, unblinking.  There was a cut on his left cheek, a thin slit of red from temple to jaw.  Keith must’ve…

 

 “You should eat something,” Hunk said.  He laid the bowl on the floor next to the cot, then sighed.  “I’m sorry.”

 

 “For what?” Not-Shiro said flatly, just loud enough to be heard.

 

 “I didn’t step in, when… when Keith tried to hurt you.”

 

 Not-Shiro stirred at that, tilting his head ever-so-slightly.  He didn’t say anything.

 

 Hunk sighed again.  “I thought Pidge was nuts, at first.  Surprise!  Our leader and best friend who just came back from the dead – _again_ – is secretly an evil Galra clone!  He’s gonna destroy us all!”  He huffed a tiny laugh.  “Only got one outta three, though.  Her math’s normally better.”

 

 More silence.  He never did well with silence.  “What I’m trying to say is – the others, they’re – ”

 

 “Just go,” Not-Shiro whispered.

 

 Hunk snapped his jaw shut.  Shame flooded through his chest, and he closed his eyes, battered by the waves.  This wasn’t fair.  This wasn’t right, he –

 

 No.  

 

 “No,” he muttered.  Not-Shiro blinked once, as if surprised.  Fair enough.  Hunk was surprising himself a little, to be honest.  

 

 “No,” he repeated, louder this time.  “Not without you.”  

 

 With that, he strode the four feet to Not-Shiro’s bed and grabbed at the handcuffs, beeping in the override code.  Not-Shiro was staring now, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.  The handcuffs released with a small click, and Hunk tossed them over his shoulder, clanging to the ground as he did the same at Not-Shiro’s ankles.  

 

 “Hunk – ”

 

 “If I’ve learned anything,” Hunk inserted, meeting Not-Shiro’s eyes with a firm look, “ _anything_ from being a leg of Voltron, it’s when I need to stand up for what I believe in.  Right now, that’s you.”

 

 Not-Shiro looked thunderstruck.  “Why?” he whispered hoarsely, sitting up on the cot, “why – I’m – ”

 

 “The second you heard danger, you threw yourself in front of me and Pidge.”

 

 “I was just – ”

 

 “We caught you.  Red-handed.  And literally, with his sword at your throat, all you did was tell Keith how much you love him.”  Hunk shook his head.  “So, yeah, you’re a clone.  And, I’m a Capricorn.  We can’t help our own births.  You don’t hold it against me, I won’t hold it against you.”

 

 Not-Shiro tore his gaze away, blinking rapidly.  Hunk took pity and leaned down to grab the bowl of food goo, taking a seat next to him on the cot.  “The others will come around.  ‘Til then, you still have to eat.”

 

 With a thin smile, Not-Shiro took the bowl, slurping hungrily.  He wiped his mouth on his arm, pausing for a moment after.  “I doubt it.”

 

 “Well.  It’ll help if we can make sure whatever Galra programming they stuck in you gets overwritten.”

 

 Not-Shiro shook his head.  “I don’t… ”

 

 “Thankfully, you don’t have to,” Hunk said, smiling encouragingly.  “The healing pods should give us some ideas; they work on brain damage, too.  Plus, Pidge is a super-genius, and we’ve got some friends out there now, too.  We’ll figure it out.”  He nudged Not-Shiro’s side with his elbow.  “Patience _yields_ focus, you know.”

 

 Suddenly, Not-Shiro growled in frustration, and Hunk startled, hands flying up.   The food-goo bowl banged onto the floor, and Not-Shiro shoved to his feet.  “Don’t,” he exclaimed, voice shaking, “don’t act like – I’m him!  I’m Shiro, I’m –  I don’t want to _be_ anyone else, I…”

 

 Slowly, Hunk lowered his hands, getting to his feet as well.  “You’re not him,” he said gently.  “I’m sorry.  But, good news – you don’t have to be anyone else.  You can just be you.”

 

 Not-Shiro sighed, so heavy and weary Hunk had the bizarre urge to wrap him in a blanket and tell him to take a nap, like everything would magically be okay with a good night’s sleep.  

_A good night’s sleep, a good day’s work, and a good meal’s love.  That's all you really need._ Mama used to say that to Mom all the time when he was little.  A small, sad smile tugged at his lips.  God, he missed them.

 

 “And hey,” he tacked on, “it’s cool if you don’t know who that is yet.  After all, you were only born, what, half a year ago?”

 

 The corner of Not-Shiro’s mouth quirked up, despite his downcast eyes.  He slumped back down on the bed, leaning against the back wall.  “Quiznaking Galra didn’t even give me a real name,” he joked darkly.  “Zarkon never played catch with me, Haggar never cooked.  Worst creators ever.”

 

 Hunk burst out laughing.  “Geez, no wonder Lotor’s such a jerk.  Never got his kindergarten finger-paintings put up on the fridge.”

 

 Not-Shiro chuckled appreciatively.  “All I ever wanted was a pet weblum, but no, they refused to house-train one – ”

 

 Hunk’s laughter turned to howls of mirth, and Not-Shiro laughed harder, too, until they were both clutching their stomachs and wiping away tears.  When they’d finally calmed, Not-Shiro smiled at him, for real this time.  “Thank you, Hunk.”

 

 “No problem, man.”  Hunk furrowed his brows then.  “So.  What should we call you?  You got a middle name we can use?”

 

 Not-Shiro shook his head.  “They’re not a Japanese custom.  Or Galran, far as I know.”

 

 Hunk hummed thoughtfully.  “Well, you can just pick any name you like, then.  Or, if you want, how about ‘twin’ in Japanese, or something?  Inside jokes are always fun.”

 

 Not-Shiro huffed a laugh, smiling wryly.  “Word for clone is ‘kuron’.  Kuron,” he repeated, trying out the sound of it.  “Yeah.  Kuron, then.  Works well as anything.”

 

 With that, Hunk stuck out his left hand, grinning wide.  “Nice to meet you, Kuron.  Name’s Hunk.”

 

 Kuron looked at the proferred hand, eyes wide.  Then, he slowly reached out with his metal arm, glancing up at Hunk before shaking hands, grip cool and firm.  “Um.  Kuron.  I’m… new here, I guess.”

 

 “Perfect!  We can always use the help.”  Hunk hopped to his feet, leveraging Kuron up with their still-joined hands.  “Let’s go meet the rest of the team.”

 

 “Hunk,” Kuron said quickly, dropping his hand, “they’re not going to – ”

 

 “They will get over it,” Hunk said cheerfully.  “We’ve got a new friend to de-brainwash, your long-lost brother to find, and a whole universe to save.  Besides, what kind of jerks would we have to be to hold a grudge against such a cute baby?”

 

 Kuron rolled his eyes, holding back a smile.  Hunk smiled back, then turned around and marched out the door, Kuron following just behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda skipped the scene where Kuron gets the lowdown on how he's actually a clone and went straight for the platonic Shunk helping-him-accept-it deal - to say nothing of absolutely zero resolution between Kuron and Keith, yikes - but this chapter was already too long and I think I just need to finish this fic. Plus, platonic Shunk?!?!?! Flawless. Iconic. Brilliant. (If I do say so myself.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friend! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr!](kuronkuronthegorgeousclone.tumblr.com)


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